


you showed me my tomorrow

by thisapathy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creepy Rick, Dubious Consent, Friends to Lovers, Grieving, Grieving Carl, Heartfelt Talks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, my baby shot me down, now with an alternate version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6042433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisapathy/pseuds/thisapathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they join hands Ron squeezes with his fingers as hard as he can. Carl strokes the inside of Ron's wrist with his thumb and he hopes it's some sort of compensation for everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A

**Author's Note:**

> \+ for the alternate version of this, read chapter 2 "B"  
> ++ let's pretend that Ron and Carl stayed friends ~~because they should have~~  
>  +++ altered timeline  
> ++++ no one knows about pete beating his family  
> +++++ things don't happen exactly the way they did in 6x09

When Pete dies, it's not because Rick kills him. It's because Gabriel leaves the gate open and a walker gets in and Pete is too drunk to get away. Rick does hear Pete's anguished screams, though, and Carl follows Rick outside. But the time they run down the street, Pete's family is outside. Rick doesn't hesitate to put the walker down and he doesn't hesitate to do the same to Pete even with Jessie's frenzied 'Rick!'

Carl watches like it's slow motion, watches Ron sink to his knees and say 'no, no, no' over and over. Sam and Jessie are sobbing and Ron's head is hanging and it snaps in an instant; Carl goes to Ron's side, hand on his shoulder. He's hit with a wave of emotion, seeing someone like Ron so weak and fragile already crumble further. Carl's desensitized to it at this point, he's seen people lose loved ones over and over, but watching Ron is harder than all the others combined.

+

They bury Pete next to Deanna's son. Carl stays for the memorial service, watches as Enid holds Ron's hand during and then leaves right after. Carl wants to talk to him and he takes two steps towards him but Ron and his family are surrounded so it'll just have to wait.

+

Later in the evening, Carl still hasn't talked to Ron. He puts Judith down for the night and climbs into his own bed. He doesn't expect Rick to turn in so soon but when Rick does, he slides behind Carl's body and drapes an arm over Carl's waist.

"You asleep yet?"

"No."

"I've gotta convince Deanna to let us have guns." As Rick speaks, his breath ghosts across Carl's ear and his lips brush the back of his neck. "Stupid not to. Dangerous."

When Rick's hand slides beneath the waistband of Carl's jeans, Carl is quick to grab Rick’s arm and shove it away. "Not right now."

He wonders how Rick can get there, how he can cozy up to him after something so traumatic has happened. Well, Rick doesn’t see it as traumatic; Rick sees it as a relief. Rick thanks Gabriel, actually, for being dumb as shit and leaving the gate open because the walker took care of Pete and Rick didn’t have to get his hands dirty. At least, that’s what Rick told Carl this morning.

Carl inches away from his father, turning onto his back. He stares at the ceiling, trying not to imagine Ron and Sam and Jessie grieving in the private of their home. "I didn't get to talk to Ron after," Carl says, quiet.

"I'm sure he's fine," Rick reassures him, though it probably doesn't mean to come out as callous as it sounds.

"He's not fine," Carl snaps. He doesn’t want to believe that Rick is saying those things, but he’s seen Rick harden over time so it doesn’t much surprise him. Carl stands up and grabs his pillow, snatching the blanket that covers Rick’s body and goes downstairs to sleep on the couch.

+

A few days later Ron hasn’t come around so Carl takes it upon himself to do so. Of course Ron is home when he goes to his house. Jessie lets Carl in and tells him that Ron is upstairs. When Carl gets there the door is open and Ron is lying on his bed. He looks tired and worn down as Carl taps his knuckles on the door frame.

Ron glances over, sitting up quickly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Carl nothing short of coos, soft and sympathetic. “Can I come in?” Ron nods. “Sorry I didn’t come by sooner. I wanted to talk to you at the funeral but you looked kinda overwhelmed. With Enid and Mikey and—”

“It’s okay,” Ron reassures him.

And Carl doesn’t think he’s just saying that; the tone of Ron’s voice tells him that it really is alright. He sits down next to Ron on the edge of the bed. “I’m not gonna ask how you are, don’t worry. I know how it is to lose a parent; it fucking sucks.”

"Enid's gone too," Ron tells him. "She said she was leaving and not to come after her. I told her to stop going over the wall, that there are bad people out there. She's just gonna get herself killed if she hasn't already. She said she’s not coming back."

"I could tell my dad," Carl offers, though he doesn't really want to. "Maybe he can think of something."

"I don't trust your dad," Ron discloses.

Carl looks at Ron, blue eyes locking with soft brown. "Sometimes I don't trust him either."

Ron nods and looks down at his shoes. "My dad's gone. Enid's gone. They’re just gone."

Carl twists at his waist, pulling Ron into a hug. "I'm still here," he whispers. He doesn't know if it's any consolation, but judging by the fact that Ron hugs him back, he thinks it is.

+

With Enid gone, Ron and Carl grow closer. They still hang out Mikey sometimes, and Sam too, but mostly they’re with each other. Ron asks Carl to teach him to shoot, but when Carl asks his dad, Rick’s answer is a firm no. No matter what promises Carl makes, no matter what he says, Rick is convinced that Ron isn’t strong enough emotionally to handle a gun. It’s bullshit and Carl knows it, and if they had more space to roam Carl would definitely teach Ron how. But they don’t, so they settle for playing video games and hanging out in each other’s rooms.

Rick seems to notice, seems to restrict Carl’s freedom a little more when Carl draws away from him. They still kiss and Carl lets Rick slip his hands under his soft, faded clothes, but when Carl asks to spend the night at Ron’s house the answer is always no.

+

Weeks. It’s been weeks since Pete died and Ron seems a little better. He smiles more now than he did before. He doesn’t talk about Enid being gone anymore; he’s accepted it.

It’s late at night when Carl and Ron are sitting outside in the grass, backs against the side of Ron’s house as they pass one of Jessie’s ‘secret’ cigarettes back and forth between them. Carl snuck out after Rick said that no, Carl absolutely couldn’t spend the night at Ron’s house. Carl just hopes Rick doesn’t come looking for him. Carl rests his head on Ron’s shoulder, knees bent at the knees.

After a while, Ron throws the cigarette butt into the grass and twists it under the heel of his shoe. He turns his head and when Carl feels his gaze, he returns it back. “What?”

Only Ron doesn’t answer him with words; he does it with a kiss. A soft press of his mouth against Carl’s that’s so light and hesitant that Carl doesn’t know what to do at first. But then he lets himself feel, lets himself feel all of the deaths he’s seen and all of the times Rick’s told him no to spending the night at Ron’s house and Carl kisses back. It’s not like he doesn’t want this because he does, it’s just that he’s torn between doing what Rick wants and doing what makes him happy. Ultimately, he kisses back.

Ron ends up on his back with Carl straddling his hips. There’s soft laughter between spit slick kisses and then Carl decides to play fight for dominance. He grabs both of Ron’s hands, pins his right arm above his hand followed by his left until—

”Fuck!”

Carl slides to the side and lets Ron sit up. “Are you okay?”

”Yeah, it’s just—” Ron stops himself short, conflict apparent on his face, almost like he’s weighing a decision. He pulls his left arm in close to his body, cradling it with his right one.

”Did I hurt you?” Carl watches as Ron closes his eyes, hangs his head, breathes a sigh heavy with relief and despair.

“My dad did. He used to, anyway.” After that admission, the rest comes pouring out immediately after: “He would get drunk, he’d beat me and Sam and my mom. My mom put a lock on the inside of Sam’s closet, we’d lock ourselves in there. He broke my arm once, it's been fucked ever since.” Ron acts like there’s more he wants to say, but Carl doesn’t push it. He’s heard enough and Ron has said enough.

“Oh,” Carl whispers, because it’s the only thing that comes to mind. “I’m really sorry, Ron.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine. At least he can't do that anymore.”

Carl nods, looking down at the grass between them. He has his own issues with his dad, but his are vastly different. He wonders if he can trust Ron, if Ron would tell anyone if Carl told him about Rick, what Rick does, and ultimately, Carl looks over and decides that he can. "After my mom died, my dad lost his shit. He was crazy for a while, but he came back." Carl leaves out the whole prison, the whole terminus ordeal; telling Ron that would only complicate matters. "We grew closer. I don't really know why, but we got separated from our group. We started sleeping together until Michonne found us. I mean, we still do once in a while. I’ll still let him touch me, but...”

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, Carl. What the hell?”

”I never really wanted it,” Carl admits. “Or, maybe I did once, when I thought we were gonna die. Now that we’re here I don’t know what to do.”

“You tell him no!” Ron whisper-shouts.

Carl shrugs and moves next to Ron again, resting his head on his shoulder once more. “I don’t know how. It’s just easier to let him do what he wants.”

“I know,” Ron whispers. “I know.”

+

Things are going okay. They’re great, actually. Carl spends most of his time with Judith or at Ron’s house. They’ll spend afternoons together, Carl curled into Ron’s side with his head on Ron’s shoulder and Ron’s arm around his back. Ron will play soft music from his iPod, songs they’ve heard a dozen times before. But somehow Carl still manages to fall asleep to them.

So yeah, things are great—until Rick discovers a quarry full of walkers. Until Rick’s ‘dry run’ turns into a massive fucking heard outside the walls. Until the fucking heard outside turns to the heard inside after one of the walls gives.

Ron, Carl and Sam are home when Rick, Jessie, Gabriel, Deanna and Michonne burst through the garage door. They hear screaming downstairs. Walkers are getting in.

It’s Rick’s idea to camouflage themselves so they can make it to the armory. No one bothers to argue; this is their only option. If they stay, they’ll die. If they go, there’s a chance they can make it.

They smear themselves in rotten flesh and bloody innards. When Carl looks to Ron, he's got his hand over his mouth like he just can't believe this is happening. It’s then that Carl decides if they make it, he’s going to end things with Rick for good. He’s going to be a better person, he’s going to be Ron’s boyfriend.

He finds a moment between Jessie convincing Sam that they have no other choice and Rick smearing the back of Father Gabriel's sheet to pull Ron into the hallway. "Are you okay?"

Ron shakes his head so vehemently that a drop of sweat from his hair flings onto Carl's bottom lip.

"Look at me," Carl says, taking Ron's face between his hands. "We're gonna get through this, okay?"

"No we're not. We're dead. We're dead. I-I don’t have a weapon—"

Carl takes his own gun, reaching around and tucking it into Ron’s belt. He closes his eyes just long enough to brace himself for the promises he isn't sure he can keep. "Listen to me. We're gonna make it to the armory, okay? Me, you, Sam—we're all gonna be fine. We're gonna get more guns, we're gonna kill these walkers. My dad's done this before."

"I don't trust your dad."

"I know. But do you trust me?"

Ron nods just a little but he looks so, so terrified that Carl doesn't even think before he rises on his toes and presses his lips to Ron's sweaty forehead. "I promise you it's gonna work."

Ron nods but nothing in his eyes indicate that he believes a thing Carl has to say. He reaches up and curls his hand around Carl's neck, ducking beneath the brim of his hat and kissing him. Carl kisses back and doesn't even think twice about it.

"We're gonna be fine," Carl tells him again. "We're gonna go out single file. Hold my hand, okay? Hold my hand."

"Okay. Yeah, okay."

They break apart just moments before Rick and Michonne walk out of the bedroom. Rick looks at him like he's aching but Rick can't do anything about it; they've gotta go now. Carl guesses that Rick settles for a cheek caress instead of a kiss, and Carl pretends not to notice the glare Ron gives Rick.

When they join hands Ron squeezes with his fingers as hard as he can. Carl strokes the inside of Ron's wrist with his thumb and he hopes it's some sort of compensation for everything.

Rick, Carl, Ron, Gabriel, Jessie, Sam, Michonne and Judith leave the porch in that order.

+

Rick changes the plan; they're going to the quarry. Gabriel breaks off and leaves with Judith, saying it'll be safer, and they rejoin hands again; Rick, Sam, Jessie, Carl, Ron, Michonne. Carl feels Ron's fingers squeezing tight around his own and he squeezes back.

They're doing fine. They're going to be fine—until Sam stops walking and no amount of 'Sam, come on, sweetheart, Sam' from anyone can make him move. He's taken by two bites: one to the shoulder and one to the head. Carl manages to pull his hand free from Jessie's grip before her screams of agony attract walkers. Carl's instinct is to look to Ron, whose face is crumbling and he's breaking. Carl's heard Michonne say anger makes you stupid, and he guesses that's what happens when Ron lets go of Carl's hand and pulls the gun—Carl's gun—and starts firing.

The last two things Carl remembers are Michonne's katana slicing through Ron's torso, and the feeling of blood dripping down the right side of his face.

+

Carl's not out for long. Less than 24 hours later, Carl wakes. There's pain. A lot of pain. He feels the weight of Rick's hand in the palm of his own.

"Dad?"

"Carl," Rick gasps, moving to stand up. "Hey. Hey, you're okay. You know what happened?"

Carl closes his eye, turning his head away from Rick because he doesn't want to look at him. Yes, he remembers. He remembers Ron squeezing his hand and he remembers promising Ron that everything would be okay and he remembers the look on Ron's face the final moments before his limp body fell to the ground.

"Where's Ron's body?"

Chances are, he knows what Carl's getting at because he hesitates. "There's too many to bury," he says, looking down. "We lost a lot of people. Daryl, Glenn and Abraham are—"

"Bury him," Carl grits out between his teeth, because if it weren't for Rick none of this would've happened. "We bury our own. Dad, please. Please."

"He shot you, Carl."

Carl knows—he knows that Ron would never shoot him, not on purpose. Not after everything they'd been through together. "He didn't mean to. It was an accident!"

"He didn't mean to shoot you?" Rick snorts in disbelief. "He had your gun."

"Because I gave it to him! He was scared. He was terrified." Carl's voice cracks because Ron's dead and it's stupid and senseless and it's Michonne's fault if anyone's to blame. "Please do this for me."

"Answer's no." Rick stands up then, dropping Carl's limp hand and turning to go. "Rest."

"Dad. Dad!"

But Rick goes and Carl sinks back against the pillows. Ron is dead. Ron is dead, Carl tells himself over and over. What is he supposed to do now?

When he starts to cry, the sensation is so odd that he can't put it into words. He reaches up and touches the bandage across his eye. Tears slide down only one side of his face. Even with the pills, the pain is unbearable. Carl has no business sitting up, no business getting out of bed, no business walking outside and stumbling onto the street by himself.

Dead walkers litter the sidewalks and roads and no one seems to notice Carl. He stumbles closer and closer and he knows he shouldn't look, but knows that if he doesn't he'll regret it the way he regrets not watching over his mother's body.

Ron's torso is a gaping cavern, entrails lying all around, his forehead tarnished with a stab wound. His eyes are closed, thank god, and Carl manages to get down and kneel over his lifeless body. He kisses him, the slightest press of his lips against Ron's cold forehead and he feels the tears streaming down the left side of his face.

"Carl?"

Carl looks up, spins around and nearly loses his balance as he raises his eye to meet Glenn's concerned gaze.

"Should you be out here?"

Carl manages to stand to his feet. He knows he shouldn't be out here and regrets the decision because he's dizzy and hurting, but this is more important than either of those things. "Bury Ron," he says, pleads. "Bury him. Please."

"Your dad said he shot you."

Carl shakes his head vigorously and discovers just how much it hurts to do so. "He didn't mean to. It was an accident."

"You know?"

"I know. Glenn, please. We bury our own, remember?"

"Carl—"

"Please."

Glenn looks at him for a long, long time. Carl watches and realizes that Glenn isn't afraid to look at his face or his bandage or make contact with the one eye he has left. "Alright. Okay, but you have to get back to bed."

"Thank you." Carl turns to go, hoping he won't run into Rick on the way back. Luck's on his side; he doesn't.

+

Three weeks later and the streets are still stained with blood pools but along the eastern wall of Alexandria, there's a lone grave marked with a rugged handmade cross. Carl visits it when he can sneak out of the house without anyone noticing. He goes at night, mostly, and he'll kiss the top of the wooden marker and he'll lie where Ron's body rests and sometimes he's fortunate enough to fall asleep there. He goes unarmed, takes his chances, and when he wakes up to the sounds of birds chirping and his clothes damp from the morning dew, he remembers that life goes on.


	2. B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ let's pretend that Ron and Carl stayed friends ~~because they should have~~  
>  ++ altered timeline  
> +++ no one knows about pete beating his family  
> ++++ things don't happen exactly the way they did in 6x09

When Pete dies, it's not because Rick kills him. It's because Gabriel leaves the gate open and a walker gets in and Pete is too drunk to get away. Rick does hear Pete's anguished screams, though, and Carl follows Rick outside. But the time they run down the street, Pete's family is outside. Rick doesn't hesitate to put the walker down and he doesn't hesitate to do the same to Pete even with Jessie's frenzied 'Rick!'

Carl watches like it's slow motion, watches Ron sink to his knees and say 'no, no, no' over and over. Sam and Jessie are sobbing and Ron's head is hanging and it snaps in an instant; Carl goes to Ron's side, hand on his shoulder. He's hit with a wave of emotion, seeing someone like Ron so weak and fragile already crumble further. Carl's desensitized to it at this point, he's seen people lose loved ones over and over, but watching Ron is harder than all the others combined.

+

They bury Pete next to Deanna's son. Carl stays for the memorial service, watches as Enid holds Ron's hand during and then leaves right after. Carl wants to talk to him and he takes two steps towards him but Ron and his family are surrounded so it'll just have to wait.

+

Later in the evening, Carl still hasn't talked to Ron. He puts Judith down for the night and climbs into his own bed. He doesn't expect Rick to turn in so soon but when Rick does, he slides behind Carl's body and drapes an arm over Carl's waist.

"You asleep yet?"

"No."

"I've gotta convince Deanna to let us have guns." As Rick speaks, his breath ghosts across Carl's ear and his lips brush the back of his neck. "Stupid not to. Dangerous."

When Rick's hand slides beneath the waistband of Carl's jeans, Carl is quick to grab Rick’s arm and shove it away. "Not right now."

He wonders how Rick can get there, how he can cozy up to him after something so traumatic has happened. Well, Rick doesn’t see it as traumatic; Rick sees it as a relief. Rick thanks Gabriel, actually, for being dumb as shit and leaving the gate open because the walker took care of Pete and Rick didn’t have to get his hands dirty. At least, that’s what Rick told Carl this morning.

Carl inches away from his father, turning onto his back. He stares at the ceiling, trying not to imagine Ron and Sam and Jessie grieving in the private of their home. "I didn't get to talk to Ron after," Carl says, quiet.

"I'm sure he's fine," Rick reassures him, though it probably doesn't mean to come out as callous as it sounds.

"He's not fine," Carl snaps. He doesn’t want to believe that Rick is saying those things, but he’s seen Rick harden over time so it doesn’t much surprise him. Carl stands up and grabs his pillow, snatching the blanket that covers Rick’s body and goes downstairs to sleep on the couch.

+

A few days later Ron hasn’t come around so Carl takes it upon himself to do so. Of course Ron is home when he goes to his house. Jessie lets Carl in and tells him that Ron is upstairs. When Carl gets there the door is open and Ron is lying on his bed. He looks tired and worn down as Carl taps his knuckles on the door frame.

Ron glances over, sitting up quickly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Carl nothing short of coos, soft and sympathetic. “Can I come in?” Ron nods. “Sorry I didn’t come by sooner. I wanted to talk to you at the funeral but you looked kinda overwhelmed. With Enid and Mikey and—”

“It’s okay,” Ron reassures him.

And Carl doesn’t think he’s just saying that; the tone of Ron’s voice tells him that it really is alright. He sits down next to Ron on the edge of the bed. “I’m not gonna ask how you are, don’t worry. I know how it is to lose a parent; it fucking sucks.”

"Enid's gone too," Ron tells him. "She said she was leaving and not to come after her. I told her to stop going over the wall, that there are bad people out there. She's just gonna get herself killed if she hasn't already. She said she’s not coming back."

"I could tell my dad," Carl offers, though he doesn't really want to. "Maybe he can think of something."

"I don't trust your dad," Ron discloses.

Carl looks at Ron, blue eyes locking with soft brown. "Sometimes I don't trust him either."

Ron nods and looks down at his shoes. "My dad's gone. Enid's gone. They’re just gone."

Carl twists at his waist, pulling Ron into a hug. "I'm still here," he whispers. He doesn't know if it's any consolation, but judging by the fact that Ron hugs him back, he thinks it is.

+

With Enid gone, Ron and Carl grow closer. They still hang out Mikey sometimes, and Sam too, but mostly they’re with each other. Ron asks Carl to teach him to shoot, but when Carl asks his dad, Rick’s answer is a firm no. No matter what promises Carl makes, no matter what he says, Rick is convinced that Ron isn’t strong enough emotionally to handle a gun. It’s bullshit and Carl knows it, and if they had more space to roam Carl would definitely teach Ron how. But they don’t, so they settle for playing video games and hanging out in each other’s rooms.

Rick seems to notice, seems to restrict Carl’s freedom a little more when Carl draws away from him. They still kiss and Carl lets Rick slip his hands under his soft, faded clothes, but when Carl asks to spend the night at Ron’s house the answer is always no.

+

Weeks. It’s been weeks since Pete died and Ron seems a little better. He smiles more now than he did before. He doesn’t talk about Enid being gone anymore; he’s accepted it.

It’s late at night when Carl and Ron are sitting outside in the grass, backs against the side of Ron’s house as they pass one of Jessie’s ‘secret’ cigarettes back and forth between them. Carl snuck out after Rick said that no, Carl absolutely couldn’t spend the night at Ron’s house. Carl just hopes Rick doesn’t come looking for him. Carl rests his head on Ron’s shoulder, knees bent at the knees.

After a while, Ron throws the cigarette butt into the grass and twists it under the heel of his shoe. He turns his head and when Carl feels his gaze, he returns it back. “What?”

Only Ron doesn’t answer him with words; he does it with a kiss. A soft press of his mouth against Carl’s that’s so light and hesitant that Carl doesn’t know what to do at first. But then he lets himself feel, lets himself feel all of the deaths he’s seen and all of the times Rick’s told him no to spending the night at Ron’s house and Carl kisses back. It’s not like he doesn’t want this because he does, it’s just that he’s torn between doing what Rick wants and doing what makes him happy. Ultimately, he kisses back.

Ron ends up on his back with Carl straddling his hips. There’s soft laughter between spit slick kisses and then Carl decides to play fight for dominance. He grabs both of Ron’s hands, pins his right arm above his hand followed by his left until—

”Fuck!”

Carl slides to the side and lets Ron sit up. “Are you okay?”

”Yeah, it’s just—” Ron stops himself short, conflict apparent on his face, almost like he’s weighing a decision. He pulls his left arm in close to his body, cradling it with his right one.

”Did I hurt you?” Carl watches as Ron closes his eyes, hangs his head, breathes a sigh heavy with relief and despair.

“My dad did. He used to, anyway.” After that admission, the rest comes pouring out immediately after: “He would get drunk, he’d beat me and Sam and my mom. My mom put a lock on the inside of Sam’s closet, we’d lock ourselves in there. He broke my arm once, it's been fucked ever since.” Ron acts like there’s more he wants to say, but Carl doesn’t push it. He’s heard enough and Ron has said enough.

“Oh,” Carl whispers, because it’s the only thing that comes to mind. “I’m really sorry, Ron.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine. At least he can't do that anymore.”

Carl nods, looking down at the grass between them. He has his own issues with his dad, but his are vastly different. He wonders if he can trust Ron, if Ron would tell anyone if Carl told him about Rick, what Rick does, and ultimately, Carl looks over and decides that he can. "After my mom died, my dad lost his shit. He was crazy for a while, but he came back." Carl leaves out the whole prison, the whole terminus ordeal; telling Ron that would only complicate matters. "We grew closer. I don't really know why, but we got separated from our group. We started sleeping together until Michonne found us. I mean, we still do once in a while. I’ll still let him touch me, but...”

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, Carl. What the hell?”

”I never really wanted it,” Carl admits. “Or, maybe I did once, when I thought we were gonna die. Now that we’re here I don’t know what to do.”

“You tell him no!” Ron whisper-shouts.

Carl shrugs and moves next to Ron again, resting his head on his shoulder once more. “I don’t know how. It’s just easier to let him do what he wants.”

“I know,” Ron whispers. “I know.”

+

Things are going okay. They’re great, actually. Carl spends most of his time with Judith or at Ron’s house. They’ll spend afternoons together, Carl curled into Ron’s side with his head on Ron’s shoulder and Ron’s arm around his back. Ron will play soft music from his iPod, songs they’ve heard a dozen times before. But somehow Carl still manages to fall asleep to them.

So yeah, things are great—until Rick discovers a quarry full of walkers. Until Rick’s ‘dry run’ turns into a massive fucking heard outside the walls. Until the fucking heard outside turns to the heard inside after one of the walls gives.

Ron, Carl and Sam are home when Rick, Jessie, Gabriel, Deanna and Michonne burst through the garage door. They hear screaming downstairs. Walkers are getting in.

It’s Rick’s idea to camouflage themselves so they can make it to the armory. No one bothers to argue; this is their only option. If they stay, they’ll die. If they go, there’s a chance they can make it.

They smear themselves in rotten flesh and bloody innards. When Carl looks to Ron, he's got his hand over his mouth like he just can't believe this is happening. It’s then that Carl decides if they make it, he’s going to end things with Rick for good. He’s going to be a better person. He’s going to be Ron’s boyfriend.

He finds a moment between Jessie convincing Sam that they have no other choice and Rick smearing the back of Father Gabriel's sheet to pull Ron into the hallway. "Are you okay?"

Ron shakes his head so vehemently that a drop of sweat from his hair flings onto Carl's bottom lip.

"Look at me," Carl says, taking Ron's face between his hands. "We're gonna get through this, okay?"

"No we're not. We're dead. We're dead. I-I don’t have a weapon—"

Carl takes his own gun, reaching around and tucking it into Ron’s belt. He closes his eyes just long enough to brace himself for the promises he isn't sure he can keep. "Listen to me. We're gonna make it to the armory, okay? Me, you, Sam—we're all gonna be fine. We're gonna get more guns, we're gonna kill these walkers. My dad's done this before."

"I don't trust your dad."

"I know. But do you trust me?"

Ron nods just a little but he looks so, so terrified that Carl doesn't even think before he rises on his toes and presses his lips to Ron's sweaty forehead. "I promise you it's gonna work."

Ron nods but nothing in his eyes indicate that he believes a thing Carl has to say. He reaches up and curls his hand around Carl's neck, ducking beneath the brim of his hat and kissing him. Carl kisses back and doesn't even think twice about it.

"I'm worried about Sam. Ever since our dad—"

"We don't have a choice," Carl replies sympathetically.

"I can't lose Sam," Ron whispers, "I can't lose you."

"We're all gonna be fine," Carl tells him again. "We're gonna go out single file. Hold my hand, okay? Hold my hand."

"Okay. Yeah, okay."

They break apart just moments before Rick and Michonne walk out of the bedroom. Rick looks at Carl like he's aching but Rick can't do anything about it; they've gotta go now. Carl guesses that Rick settles for a cheek caress instead of a kiss, and Carl pretends not to notice the glare Ron gives Rick.

"Hold on," Ron says.

The group pauses and Carl watches curiously as Ron disappears into his bedroom, coming back with his iPod, headphones and a strip of fabric. Carl watches as Ron kneels in front of his little brother. "I know you're scared," Ron murmurs. "I'm scared, too. But you can do this." He presses his iPod into the palm of Sam's hand. "You can have this if you promise me you'll be brave. I want you to listen to it and I'm gonna cover your eyes, okay? You won't know what's going on. As long as you feel Mom's hand holding yours, everything's gonna be okay. We have to do this, Sam. We have to."

"I know," Sam murmurs. He doesn't protest when Ron wraps the cloth around his eyes. Ron quietly asks Sam what he wants to listen to before setting the music on repeat and tucking the iPod into Sam's front pocket.

Ron is a genius to think of that, Carl thinks. Rick asks if they're ready and no one speaks, but when they join hands Ron squeezes with his fingers as hard as he can. Carl strokes the inside of Ron's wrist with his thumb and he hopes it's some sort of compensation for everything.

Rick, Carl, Ron, Gabriel, Jessie, Sam, Michonne and Judith leave the porch in that order.

+

Rick changes the plan; they're going to the quarry. Gabriel breaks off and leaves with Judith, saying it'll be safer, and they rejoin hands again; Rick, Jessie, Sam, Ron, Carl and Michonne.

+

They're doing great; they're not out of the woods yet but they're out of Alexandria. Night is falling but it's still safe enough for them to stop for a brief moment. When they do, Carl and Ron still don't let go of each other. The group forms a semi-circle around Sam, telling him how brave he is and what a good job he did. Carl's heart swells when Sam smiles a smile so bright, and then he looks at Ron who's grinning too.

Carl gives his hand a squeeze. "Are you gonna miss your iPod?"

"Not half as much as I'd miss Sam." Ron pulls Carl's gun from his belt, offering it to him. "You should take this back. You'll get more use out of it than me."

"Don't worry," Carl says softly, holstering his weapon. He lifts their locked hands together, kissing Ron's knuckles. "I'll keep you safe."

+

They take 2 cars; Rick, Jessie and Sam in one and Michonne, Ron and Carl in the other. It's going to be a long night but they've got flares and they've got each other, and right now that's all they need.

+

They draw the majority of the heard away. The ones they can't lure out are slaughtered by the remaining Alexandrians. The bloodshed is massive, the number of rotten corpses incalculable, but in the morning Ron and Carl fall asleep against each other in the safety of the armory.

+

Carl has debated whether or not to talk to Rick. He knows he and Ron have been obvious enough in the past days that a conclusion can be drawn. But still, some part of him feels necessary to say the words flat out so that there's no denying whether Carl wants that kind of a relationship with Rick anymore.

Jessie, Sam and Ron are sleeping in their living room; their own house now inhabitable for the time being. Carl walks quietly past them and finds Rick in the kitchen. "Can I talk to you?"

Rick looks at him like he knows what he's going to say. Regardless, Rick leads him out onto the back porch. "What?"

"Dad, you can't touch me anymore. We can't have sex. I don't want to anymore."

Rick just ignores him and Carl stands there, mouth slightly agape as he waits for a response. The one he gets isn't the one he's expecting. "So, you and Ron, huh?"

"What?"

"Yeah," Rick drawls. His voice drops the way it does when he's pissed; Carl's heard it all too often. "I get it."

"You can't—you can't actually be mad at me. What, are you serious? We shouldn't have been doing that in the first place."

"Don't try to pin this on me; you were just as willing as I was."

"No, I wasn't! You never asked me if I still wanted that after we got here. I'm just telling you I'm done."

"That's fine, Carl, really. It's fine."

Carl lets out a deep sigh but he knows it's not fine. He wonders if Rick is going to hold this against him. Maybe Rick will let it roll off his back; he has to have known they couldn't carry on like that forever. Either way Carl doesn't worry about it anymore because it's over.

+

Some weeks later, life returns to about as normal as it's going to. The streets have been cleaned and the walls have been rebuilt. The Anderson house has been cleared of walkers and aside from smudges of dried blood from the walls, it doesn't look like much happened.

Carl stays over with Ron most nights because he doesn't have to answer to Rick anymore. Jessie says it's okay as long as they sleep with the door open, so they do.

This morning in particular, Carl wakes up to Ron's lips against his cheek. When he rolls onto his back and opens his eyes, the entire room is bathed in sunlight.

Ron scoots just a little closer and rests his head on Carl's pillow and if Ron weren't so cute Carl might be a little pissed at having to share. And then Ron smiles at him for reasons he can't figure out.

"What?" Carl asks.

Ron leans over to kiss him, just the slightest press of his lips against Carl's before he whispers, "I am so in love with you."

And Carl's heart does that swelling thing again and he's just about to move in for a deeper kiss as a soft knock on the open door jolts them.

"Breakfast is ready, boys," Jessie says softly. "Come eat."

Carl's a little disappointed that he doesn't get to say it back before Ron gets out of bed, but then he remembers that they've got all the time in the world.


End file.
